


You're supposed to hook up at weddings, right?

by greenmage128



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Kilts, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmage128/pseuds/greenmage128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Tina turns on him as soon as they're clear. “All right, what's going on?”</i><br/><i>Trying to be as subtle and nonchalant as possible, Ray nods towards the bar. Ryan's still there, leaning against the counter with a can of Diet Coke in hand. “That.”</i><br/><i>She leans around him to see, and her eyes instantly go wide. “Oh, wow.”</i><br/>In which weddings do weird things to people, and Ryan and Ray are no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're supposed to hook up at weddings, right?

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, this takes place at the reception for Michael and Lindsay's wedding, and I may have taken several liberties with the guest list, their attire, and their relationships for the sake of narrative. I am not in the least bit sorry. 
> 
> Also, the fact that Ryan/Ray/Tina is not more of a thing makes me sad. Then again, my MO in fandom seems to be, "find the rarest ship possible and fall so deeply in love with it you're eternally fucked", so. Yeah. Enjoy guys!

The weird looks don't start until after the ceremony, as everyone is filing into the ballroom and sorting out the seating. Mostly they're from people outside of the Rooster Teeth circle, which is more people than Ryan anticipated somehow, but, by that same token, he really didn't care about their opinion.

It isn't until Michael stomps over to him after the food has been brought out and the drinks poured that Ryan starts to worry.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Ryan sips at his Diet Coke and shrugs, doing his best to look casual. “No idea what you're talking about.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “The fucking kilt you're wearing, dude. Why?”

Beside him, Geoff starts laughing, not quite his hyena cackle but it would happen.

“The invitation said ‘formal wear’. You didn't specify the culture,” Ryan says, leaning back in his chair.

Jack, who sat on his other side with his wife Caiti, shakes his head. “Goddamn it, Ryan.”

Lindsay pops up behind Michael and throws an arm around his shoulders. “I think it looks awesome. Everybody loves a man in a kilt.”

“You do have the legs for it,” Caiti says. She smirks and turns to Jack. “Maybe…”

“Hell no,” is Jack's instant response.

And _there_ goes Geoff's hyena laugh. Even Michael cracks a smile at that.

“You know you're gonna pay for this, right?” Michael says, looking Ryan dead in the eye.

Ryan waves him off. “Do your worst. I'll be waiting.”

Someone calls Michael away from the table, but he makes sure to give Ryan one last glare before he leaves.

“Seriously, dude, you are never going to live this down,” Geoff says, still laughing. “Why the fuck would you even think of wearing a fucking kilt?”

“Are you even Scottish?” Jack adds with a raised eyebrow.

“Irish but it's almost the same thing,” Ryan says, shrugging. “And, c'mon, the internet was going to demand to see me in a kilt at some point anyway. I'm just getting it out of the way.”

Griffon appears beside Geoff and sets drinks down on the table, sadly not including another Diet Coke for Ryan, though, to be fair, he hadn't asked for one. Still, he's a little let down. His is almost gone.

“Are we finally talking about the elephant in the room?” she asks as she sits down.

“If the ‘elephant’ is how hot Ryan is in a kilt, then yes,” Caiti says.

Jack gives her a look. “That is not how you convince me to get in one.”

“You'd look great in a kilt, Jack,” Griffon says, and Jack turns bright red. Caiti gives Griffon a thumbs-up, and they both laugh. After a moment, Griffon turns to Ryan and gives him what he can only describe as a “mom” face. “So, while I support the decision to give no fucks, I have to ask why now, at a wedding, of all the times and places you could have picked.”

“It is formal wear, to be fair,” Ryan says, pointing at her with his Diet Coke can. “And I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to fuck with Michael. He talks enough shit about me.”

Geoff throws back his drink and stares at Ryan. Great, they were both in full parent mode. Weddings did weird things to people. Himself included. “Because you're, what do you fucking call it, a virtual sociopath. It's fucking creepy.”

Ryan sighs. “How does no one get the ‘virtual’ part of that phrase?”

Griffon is still giving him a _look_ , and Ryan wonders if she can actually see through him. He likes to think he hasn't tipped his hand, but the woman has a knack for navigating every kind of bullshit imaginable. It was kind of a requirement for being married to Geoff.

It's starting to unnerve him, more than he'd care to admit. Ryan looks back at her, doing his best to keep a neutral face. “What?”

“Nothing,” is all Griffon says in reply, but her raised eyebrow finishes the statement for her. _You are so full of shit._

Which wasn't an accusation he could deny, so Ryan just clears his throat, subtle as a sledgehammer, and gets up to grab another soda.

* * *

Ray is talking with Kerry and Lindsay, Kerry recounting some story about how much he couldn't remember a night while drunk, when he sees Ryan get up from the unofficial Team Gents table and cross the ballroom to the bar. It shouldn't be anything notable, except that Ryan is wearing a fucking kilt, and how the hell had he not noticed that during the ceremony?

He knows he's looking longer than he should, and that Lindsay has noticed by now and will probably give him so much shit, but Ray can't look away. It wasn't his fault, really. Ryan's legs look way better than they should, considering he played video games for a living.

“Uh, earth to Ray?” Kerry says, waving his hand in front of Ray's face.

An idea is already forming in the back of his mind, but Ray pushes it aside for now. He turns back to Kerry, and, yep, Lindsay knows exactly what's going on in his brain. “Sorry, dude, I spaced. You were drunk or something?”

Kerry just laughs and continues his story.

Ray manages to get away while Ryan is still at the bar, his get-up on proud display. He goes back to his table, where Tina is sitting and chatting with a couple people he doesn't recognize. She looks up as he approaches, eyebrows going up immediately.

“Hey, Tina, can I borrow you for a second?” he asks before she has a chance to interrogate him.

“Sure. Could you guys excuse me for a second?” Tina gets up, and they walk a little aways from the tables, where they have something resembling privacy. She turns on him as soon as they're clear. “All right, what's going on?”

Trying to be as subtle and nonchalant as possible, Ray nods towards the bar. Ryan's still there, leaning against the counter with a can of Diet Coke in hand. “That.”

Tina leans around him to see, and her eyes instantly go wide. “Oh, wow.”

For some reason, seeing her reaction makes Ray feel relieved. Maybe it was just the confirmation that he wasn't the only one who found Ryan in a kilt attractive. Granted, he found the older man attractive on normal days, ill-fitting dad jeans and all, but the random kilt thing was a little weird. “Right?”

His girlfriend turns back to him and grins. “Make your move, then. I know you've been wanting to bang him for ages.”

“Are you sure you're okay with that?” Ray asks. Sure, they had an open relationship and had slept with other people, but it was never with anyone they knew or maybe had feelings for. This is new territory, and Ray isn't about to risk his relationship with Tina to find out whether or not Ryan was wearing underwear.

She nudges his shoulder, grin softening to a smile. “If you don't, I will, because damn. Besides, you're supposed to hook up at weddings, right?”

Ray leans down and kisses her. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tina says. She straightens up his collar and tie before pushing him in the direction of the bar. “Text me updates.”

* * *

Ryan scans the room, trying to look like he isn't looking for someone. His eyes meet Lindsay's, and she gives him a little toast with her drink while wearing the same knowing look Griffon had. What the fuck? Was he that transparent?

“Hey,” he hears someone say beside him.

He is not expecting that someone to be Ray. “Oh, hey.”

Ray orders a soda from the bartender, who might be giving them both looks for not ordering actual alcohol, and mirrors Ryan's posture. “I have to ask, dude. A fucking kilt? Really?”

All of a sudden, Ryan doesn't have a witty reply to that question. It might be because he's too distracted by how good Ray looks in his suit. It might be a rental, but it fits him well, emphasizing his slender build without making him look like a skinny teenager. Tina must have helped him pick it out, he thinks distantly, a thought which makes him smile a bit.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan says with a shrug, because he really has nothing else.

“You're so full of shit,” Ray says, smiling, and Ryan feels himself go a little weak at the knees. Goddamn it.

The lad's smile is infectious, and Ryan finds himself relaxing. “Caught me. I am filled to the brim with human excrement.”

Ray laughs, loud, and the sound is magic to his ears, Ryan's heart twisting in a way he thought he'd gotten used to over the past year. “Fuck you, dude.” He shakes his head, and when he looks at Ryan again, he almost seems nervous, biting at his lip and shifting on his feet. “So, uh— Fuck, this is corny—”

It's Ryan's turn to raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Are you wearing that thing the, uh, traditional way, or…?” Ray's eyes don't meet his, and his cheeks turn a light pink.

All of Ryan's thoughts come to a dead stop. Asking a dick-related question would normally be as easy as breathing for Ray, and _now_ he acts bashful about it? This couldn't possibly be happening. He was dreaming; he had to be if Ray was the one hitting on him.

Unless he is reading the situation completely wrong, which is never out of the question.

Ryan decides to take a chance, because even if he's wrong, he can just play it off as a joke and act like he totally didn't wear a kilt with the express purpose of grabbing Ray's attention. “Only one way to find out,” he says with what he hopes is a suggestive eyebrow-waggle.

Except Ray chokes on his mouthful of soda, coughing and just barely avoiding spraying Ryan with Dr. Pepper.

Well, fuck. “Uh, Ray? You all right?” Ryan moves to help him, but Ray waves him off.

“I'm fine,” he says, still coughing. He takes a breath and another drink, but he looks like he's still having trouble breathing.

Smooth, Haywood. Like crunchy peanut butter.

Ray seems to calm down, though he isn't looking Ryan in the eye. “Fuck, I did not expect that to work.”

_Oh._ So, Ryan hadn't read the situation wrong. Somehow that doesn't make him feel any better. He plays dumb, just in case. He'll probably look like an asshole no matter what he does, so he's just hedging his bets. “You didn't expect what to work?”

“Really?” Ray gives him a look, and Ryan shrugs by way of reply. “I'm trying to seduce you, you idiot.”

Hearing it out loud is not something Ryan ever expected. He almost drops his can before setting it down on the counter. Maybe they should just stay away from liquid consumption of any kind, because it was apparently incompatible with their style of “flirting”.

They stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Ray has to take his glasses off in order to wipe the tears from his eyes at one point, and people start to stare at them. Ryan honestly couldn't care less, but if he could find a way to give the guys at work less ammunition, that would be great.

Once they both can breathe again—Ray's poor lungs must be baffled at this point—Ryan asks, “Please tell me you were serious about that.”

The younger man raises an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be kidding about that? You're fucking hot.”

“Well, Tina, for one,” Ryan says, and he's not playing dumb this time, not exactly. He'd heard mention on the not-exclusivity of their relationship, which was why he even took the risk tonight, but that had been mostly hearsay, and he wasn't that kind of asshole.

Ray nods, catching his drift without him having to awkwardly explain further. “She's the one who sent me over here. If I bitch out, she totally has dibs, by the way.”

He knows Ray can be blunt, but he's on some kind of roll tonight, every other statement smacking Ryan hard in the face. But in a good way.

Before he can respond, he sees Ray grin at someone behind him. Ryan follows his gaze and finds Tina looking proud if not encouraging. She throws Ryan a smile, and Ryan can't help returning the expression.

“I hope not. I mean, I'm not opposed to the idea, not by a long shot, but—” Ryan stops before he makes a bigger ass of himself.

Ray just nods again, and something in his face catches him off-guard. His brown eyes have gone dark, focused and intent on him, sending a thrill of heat through Ryan that goes straight down. “No, I get it.” He looks away long enough to tap out a text, Ryan catches a glimpse of Tina's name at the top of the screen, before pocketing his phone and returning that gaze to Ryan. “For now, want to get out of here?”

“Fuck yes.”

* * *

They end up in the hotel bathroom, crammed into the middle stall, because they're not cruel enough to use the handicapped stall for a quickie hookup. They were horny, not jerks.

Ryan shoves Ray against the door once it's closed, kissing him hard and rough.

The moan that comes out of his mouth is louder than he would like, but he also doesn't care. Ray wraps his arms around Ryan's neck, one hand going into his hair, which is as soft as he imagined it to be.

(Not that he spent nights thinking about what parts of Ryan might feel like under his hands, comparing them to Tina and maybe wondering what it would be like to have both at his disposal at the same time. Nah, never.)

The older man's hands drift downwards, down his shoulders, sides, and hips, slow despite the intensity of his kiss, and Ray wonders if maybe he isn't the only one who had thought about this for an unhealthy amount of time.

Ray keeps one hand in Ryan's hair and uses the other to start in on the buttons of his shirt. He knows he should have gone for the jacket first, but Ryan's hands feel so good, he can't do anything that might bring that to an end.

Instead, Ryan does it for him, pulling away and taking the small step back that he can. He reaches for Ray's tux jacket, and Ray scrambles to get out of it.

Like a dumbass, he gets stuck, cursing at himself and the stupid jacket.

“Easy,” Ryan says, low, and it's enough to bring all of Ray's processing to a screeching halt. He helps Ray out of the jacket and then his own, hanging them both up on the hook on the door.

Ray has to shift to leaning against the one bare wall of the stall, squishing their bodies together, but that's rather the point. The moment to breathe does remind him, however, of the pickup line that landed them here in the first place.

When Ryan leans back down to kiss him again, a little gentler this time but no less passionate, Ray sets a hand on the older man's hip and drags it down towards the hem of the kilt. Ryan must read his mind, because he leans his hips back just enough to let Ray get a hand between them, under the kilt and back up his thigh.

His fingers find Ryan's cock, half-hard and nothing between it and the fabric of the kilt. Ray tugs on it, working it up to full hardness, and can't help but smirk into their kiss.

Ryan pulls back again, gasping, blue eyes blown wide, and if Ray wasn't achingly hard already, that would have done it for him.

“You are a kinky fuck,” Ray says without thinking, though he doesn't stop his handjob.

“That you clearly find attractive.” Ryan's voice is breathy and almost broken, so at odds with the normally cool and composed Ryan that he's used to, and, coincidentally, it's one of the hottest things he's ever heard.

Ray grins and pulls Ryan back down for another kiss. When they part for air—stupid oxygen bullshit—he says, “I never said it was a bad thing.”

“Not yet,” Ryan says, and there's something in his tone that Ray recognizes, something he knows he does himself, though they both mask it in humor and laugh it off with everyone else, but the nagging doubt is still there.

“Nah. I can handle whatever weird shit you want to throw at me. Unless it involves cows,” Ray says and, before Ryan can protest, speeds up his hand's pace.

Ryan bites off a groan and presses his mouth back to Ray's, where, quite frankly, it belongs.

He would be content to stay like that, kissing Ryan and listening to all the little noises he makes as he falls apart, but Ryan does him one better, and then there's a hand on his cock, palming him through his pants.

As good as that feels, and, fuck, does it ever, Ray has to stop him before he loses it. “Rental,” he says, and Ryan nods and helps him out of these too, the kilt coming off as well almost as an afterthought.

Having Ryan's hands on his bare skin is a thousand times better than he could have imagined, and when he squeezes Ray's ass, he hitches a leg up to Ryan's waist automatically. It doesn't matter that they probably don't have time or even lube; the promise is enough for him.

They resume working each other's cocks, panting and moaning into each other's mouths like fucking teenagers, but before they can get too frenzied, the door to the bathroom swings open, causing them both to freeze in place.

“Why the hell hasn't that fuck texted me back? He couldn't have just fucking disappeared.”

The voice is Michael's, and Ray is dimly aware of the fact that his phone may have been buzzing for the last ten minutes. What? He was a little preoccupied.

“You know what's funny? Ryan never came back from the bar, though I think Griffon might have scared him off.”

The sound of Geoff's voice makes Ryan's eyes go wide, and while Ray shares his panic for a brief second, it also gives him an idea.

“Maybe he got a drink and went off the deep end,” Michael says, chuckling.

Ray rifles through his pants pocket in search of a condom that he knows is buried in his wallet, Ryan giving him a death glare all the while, when Geoff's response stops him cold.

“Nah, if he got a full drink in him, he would've tried banging Ray over a table or some shit.”

For a moment, Ray wonders if their coworkers actually knew it was them shacking up in the stall. They couldn't, but the pieces weren't hard to put together, even for them.

“Nah, he'd try quoting some Shakespeare at him first. Then Ray would bang _him_ on the table while Tina filmed it.”

Geoff cackles, and Ray breaths a sigh of relief, and, just in time, his fingers find the condom in his wallet.

The flush of the urinals covers the sound of the wrapper ripping and Ryan's groan—though he was still glaring down at him—as Ray rolls the condom down his dick.

“The fuck was that?”

Or not.

Ray drops to a crouch anyway, grabbing onto Ryan's hips and using them to hold himself steady. He looks up at the older man with a smirk.

“No,” Ryan mouths, but he doesn't stop Ray from leaning in and wrapping his lips around the head of his cock.

No sounds come out of Ryan's mouth, but the dull thud of his head falling back against the stall wall is unmistakable. Ray slowly swallows down the older man's cock, fighting back a grin.

When the head bumps the back of his throat, Ray gives a little hum before starting to pull off just as slow.

Ryan sucks in a breath and hisses out a, “Fuck,” his hand reaching out and tangling in Ray's hair. He doesn't pull on the strands, but Ray kind of wants him to.

Outside the stall, Ray hears Michael and Geoff still moving around, but they're not making commentary or even just talking amongst themselves. Notably, he doesn't hear the door open either, which Ray takes as a challenge.

He keeps his blowjob slow and even, and watching Ryan struggle with the pace, hand fisting in Ray's hair before he seems to remember himself, and his hips fighting to thrust forward but are kept pinned down by Ray's hands, is a better reward than knowing their coworkers are on the other side of stall door wallowing in a bit of shocked embarrassment.

There's a few hushed whispers from Michael and Geoff, but Ray can't make out the words. Feet shuffle and start to fade away, and the door opens.

They're almost in the clear, when Ryan sighs out a breathy but loud, “Ray.”

He almost chokes in surprise, but Ray manages to keep his composure and his pace, eyes flicking up to Ryan. For a second, he thinks the name was a slip-up, until Ryan looks back down at him with a devious smirk normally reserved for when he fucked with Gavin or put digital cows into holes.

That son of a bitch. And still, Ray can't help but find him attractive; the asshole didn't play fair, with his still model-worthy good looks (no matter what he claimed otherwise), made only better by that fucking smirk, and those blue eyes that Ray can't look away from.

The door is still open—Ray can hear the conversation from the hotel lobby filtering through—but there's no other sounds besides Ryan's harsh breathing, which means Michael and Geoff are probably still standing in the doorway either dumbfounded or plotting.

Well, if they had a captive audience, Ray was going to give them a show. His reputation is on the line, after all.

He eases off Ryan's cock until he has just the tip in his mouth and sucks hard. His hand makes up the difference, working the shaft with a deft twist of his wrist.

Ray keeps his eyes on Ryan the whole time and allows himself to feel a fair bit of pride when the older man breaks the gaze, falling back against the stall and tightening his grip on Ray's hair.

To Ray's frustration, Ryan refuses to get louder, no doubt figuring out his little gambit immediately, so he doubles his efforts, not caring that he's making all kinds of obscene noises as he does.

It turns out to be more than worth it when Ryan, the unflappable, gives-zero-fucks Ryan, lets out a string of curses mixed with Ray's name, none of which is quiet.

It's hot and immensely satisfying, overriding the burn in his legs and the ache in his shoulders and neck, and it only gets better when he distantly hears the scuffle of dress shoes on tile, and the bathroom door slams shut.

Almost on cue, Ryan quiets, biting his abused lip while his body tenses, and Ray feels the condom warm around the tip. So Ryan was a silent orgasmer. Interesting.

He also regains himself pretty quick, considering how far gone he looked. Ryan gets the condom off before Ray can fully stand, tying it off and throwing it in the little trash can in the corner.

Ryan pulls Ray in close, both arms going around his waist and, probably not without point, ignoring the erection Ray's still sporting. “You're lucky you're attractive on several levels.”

Translation, _fuck you, you little shit_. Ray gives him his best cocky asshole grin. “What can I say? I'm endearing.”

“You're not wrong,” Ryan says. One of his hands eases back to rest on Ray's hip. “Need some help with that?”

Ray shrugs. “I think it would add to the tux, but do what you want.”

The older man kisses the snark out of him, at least for the moment, and wraps a hand around his cock. It doesn't take much to bring Ray to a climax, something which should make him feel at least an ounce of shame, but Ray just chalks it up to Ryan's handjob skills and enjoys the ride.

* * *

Ray leaves the bathroom first, shirt and pants intentionally left just askew enough to give himself away to those who might be looking for it. Ryan takes his time putting himself back together, making sure everything is where it's supposed to be, though there's nothing for his hair. He tries to smooth it down as best he can, but it still vaguely looks like he just got laid, though that could have been his imagination.

Gavin comes in just as Ryan's about to leave, and his brows furrow in confusion when he sees Ryan.

“Where've you been, Ry? We all thought you'd left or something,” he says, the words slurring at the edges. Great, he'd been gone just long enough for everyone to get drunk. This should be fun.

“Sorry. I got a phone call, then the Diet Coke caught up with me,” Ryan says. The lie is easy, and Gavin accepts it without question before stumbling over to the urinal. He watches the Brit with a raised eyebrow. “You all right there, Gavin?”

“'M fine,” Gavin mumbles, waving him off.

Ryan knows better than to argue with a drunk person, especially when that person is Gavin, so he leaves him to his inebriated devices. He reenters the ballroom and does his best not to look for Ray, only to almost run straight into the lad as he was heading for the bar.

“Hey. We were wondering where you'd disappeared to,” Ray says, handing him a can of Diet Coke. He leans his head to the right just so, and Ryan sees Michael not far behind him.

“My nana called, sorry,” Ryan replies, loud enough so Michael can hear him too. The crowd in the ballroom has thinned a little, but Michael's family is loud no matter their number. “If she asks me how add photos to Facebook one more time, I'm gonna start hanging up on her.” He pauses and then shrugs. “And then call right back, because that's mean.”

Ray rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, soft and genuine, and there goes Ryan's heart again, just a puddle of mush in his chest. “Everyone knows you don't hang up on grandma, Ryan.”

Michael catches up to them, and he's leaning on Ray a little when he does, a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. “Ryan isn't everyone, Ray. He'd put grandma in a hole just for fun.”

“Hey, if it stopped grandma from calling me for tech support, I'd do it in a heartbeat,” Ryan says, cracking open the can as if that would emphasize his point.

“You sick fuck.” Michael's tongue sticks on the “s”, and, wow, he is drunker than Ryan originally thought. He shakes his head and then looks around the room. “Have you seen Gav? Fucker better not've left like Jack, the traitor.”

Ryan has never been happier to be sober, except perhaps earlier when he didn't have to deal with the risk of whiskey dick. That would've taken the fun out of things. “Bathroom.”

“He better not be getting a blowjob in there. Look what you started at my wedding, dude.” Michael nudges Ray and gives him what's probably supposed to be a playful glare, but, with the drunkeness, it's hard to tell. “I'm so proud.”

Ray nudges him back with a roll of his eyes. “Go save Gavin from vomiting all over himself.”

They watch him meander away, because that really could not legally be called walking, and Ryan looks over at Ray, feeling slightly awkward. “So, uh, how'd it go?”

“I'm never gonna live it down at the office but whatever. Worth it,” Ray says with a shrug.

Ryan laughs. “I'd apologize, but you only brought it on yourself.”

The lad smirks, and Ryan isn't sure if he prefers that or the smile on him; both suit him so well. “Nah, no need. It's just another thing I can say I'm better at than them.”

“I might have to challenge you on that,” Ryan says, and it takes him a minute to realize the implications of his statement and the presumption he made. “I mean, if that's okay. If this was just a one-time deal, that's fine too.”

“It better not be,” a female voice says from behind them, and they turn to see Tina. She sidles up to Ray, who wraps an arm around her shoulders, and Ryan can't help marvelling at how well they fit together, how, in that little action, they convey a whole, complete picture, and he is loathe to disturb the canvas.

“No?” Ryan asks, and he has no idea where he gets the courage from.

Tina grins, a mirror image of Ray, and Ryan feels himself get dragged in a little deeper, and he couldn't care less. “I'm not gonna pass up a chance to watch two hot dudes bang.”

Ray laughs and squeezes her shoulders. “Watching the banging isn't as fun as you think it would be.”

He knows he shouldn't, because it's not quite his place and, really, can only lead to his doom, if he wasn't halfway there already, but Ryan adds, “Sex, as a spectator sport, does kind of suck. I wouldn't recommend it.”

“Guess I'll just have to participate to get some enjoyment out if it, then,” Tina says, a devious little glint in her eyes. The Narvaez-Dayton team is unstoppable, and they damn well know it.

Even though the situation is going exactly the opposite of how Ryan ever imagined it, he lets himself fall right into the trap. With bait like that, how can one not be lured?

He opens his mouth to respond, when Lindsay appears from nowhere, clapping Ryan and Ray on the shoulders and giving them all a wide grin. “Congrats on the threesome, guys!”

Ray doesn't miss a beat. “Go home, Linds, you're drunk.”

“That is the plan, my friend. Gonna go home and bang my husband. Fuck yeah!” Lindsay says, exchanging a high-five with Ray. She sounds far more put-together than either Michael or Gavin, but her cheeks are flushed, and her smile's a touch too wide. “As soon as I can find him.”

“He and Gavin are probably passed out in the bathroom,” Ryan says.

Tina nods. “Or making out. Though I did hear someone was giving out free blowjobs in there.”

“They weren't free, Tina!” Ray throws his arms out in fake exasperation. “I have some respect for myself, fucking Christ.”

Lindsay giggles—actually giggles, an even surer sign she's inebriated—and hugs Ray's shoulders. “You kids have fun. Safe sex. Do it.”

She heads off towards the bathroom that seems to have become some sort of weird black hole for Achievement Hunters, and the three turn back to each other, the air slightly awkward.

Ryan clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, that thing. I'm in.”

“Good, because you owe me,” Ray says, poking Ryan's arm.

“I figured that.” Nevermind that it was a price Ryan is more than willing to pay.

They wait until Michael and Lindsay make their departure before leaving themselves, ostensibly separately, though Ryan can't help glancing over at them across the parking lot. He has a flash of doubt once they're in their respective cars, but a text from Ray squashes it.

_Follow us._

And so he does, wherever it may lead.


End file.
